Betty, Where did you go?
by Tsia
Summary: It was a dark and stormy night,Snoopy typed. Woodstock wondered, 'But where are the brothers? And who is that person? Is she good? Is she evil'
1. The Dim Light of Day

Betty, Where did you go? 

The Dim Light of Day

By Tsia

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural except my love for the Pretty.

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He had a strange feeling of wrongness, a feeling that started in the first stages of waking. His consciousness was telling him that he should not be. Nothing more, just 'I should not be.' During the second stages, he felt. Aches blossomed all over his body. Not sharp newly formed pains, but dull aches that echoed old injuries. Opening his eyes at the final stage of waking he saw, completing the package of wrongness. 'Room: home? motel? Where am I?' his mind drifted through the possibilities. The full size bed he was in was bathed in amber light streaming in from the open window along with the warm summer breeze. 'This is wrong,' he thought, 'I don't leave windows open.' Yet it reminded him of a place he had stayed once with his family.

"My family," he gasped and his heart skipped a beat. He remembered traveling to, from, or with his family. 'Where are they?' He looked wildly around, but his panic was interrupted by the door to his left opening. He stilled himself watching as a person entered, 'Who are you? Do I know you? Watch, listen, learn.' Through slitted eyelids he saw that it was a woman; she moved to the window across from him and adjusted the curtains. She was nondescript with long, brown hair hanging in a loose braid down her back, wearing jeans and a green t-shirt. She was of average height and plain features, somewhere between 25 and 35 years old, he could not pin it down. She stepped over to the night stand next to the bed and flicked on the lamp.

"Ah, you're awake, good," she said in a matter of fact tone giving him an amused little smile. "I was wondering when you would come around," she said it as if she did this everyday. Just stating the obvious, but with vague emotions floating in the background. She went to the corner by the door and brought something to the bed. "If you should want to get up, use this," she indicated an aluminum walker. "It will help. I put your cleaned clothes in the dresser," pointing next to the window. "I salvaged all that I could." She had a strange twinkle in her eyes. 'Was that amusement or something else?' the man could not decide. Turning to leave she stopped when she reached the door, "Oh, you're going to need another duffle." With that she left, closing the door behind her.

The man stared after the woman replaying the conversation, if you could call it that, in his head. He decided that she was not a threat, at least not yet. 'Strange,' was the word he came up with first to describe her then, 'nice, I think.' Carefully he sat up and threw back the sheet that had covered him. It was then he noticed he was completely naked. Looking back to the door to make sure it was closed, he thought, 'What is going on here? What the hell did she do?!' He moved his legs off the bed and took advantage of the walker when he begrudgingly accepted that he did need the help. Concentrating carefully, it took him nearly ten minutes to make the five foot trek to the dresser. Looking through the drawers, he pondered, 'How does she know these clothes are mine? What duffel is she talking about? Suitcases are what people carry clothes around in.' He found two pairs of jeans, one pair of black slacks, three t-shirts, one red, long sleeved button shirt, three pairs of underwear, and three pairs of socks. Picking up the red shirt he fingered the material as if trying to remember something then put it down in favor of the navy t-shirt that had a greyhound on the front, 'I like dogs.' Putting it on he found that it was a good fit along with the underwear and socks, 'these could be mine,' but the pants gave him pause. Checking each pair he found that they were all the same size, and thought, 'I don't think these are mine, unless I like them loose.' Shrugging he pulled on a pair of jeans then used the belt he found on the bed post to keep them from falling down. 'These are not my pants, none of them can be. But if they were found with me... wait, my dad?' he had a strong feeling about his dad but could not grasp it. Looking down he stared at his feet, "Shit, I look like a dork," chuckling at himself. The jeans were 3" too short, so he pushed the jeans down as far on his hips as he felt comfortable.

He was feeling dizzy from all the activity. So he sat on the bed for a moment to gather his thoughts. 'Okay, first things first, where am I, then who is that woman and... hmm what was that other...' his thoughts were fuzzy and jumbled. Looking around the room again he pondered, 'Is she a hermit wanting companionship or a deranged fan wanting me to write ... wait wasn't that a movie? Shit, I need some answers and some shoes.' He rubbed his face in weariness, the activity had also wore him out. 'And a shave, where is the bathroom?' He had stubble that made his face itch now that he focused on it, 'And I have to go.' More feelings came with wakefulness. With one last look that did not produce any shoes, he ventured in socked feet for the door.

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	2. Coffee and Crosswords

Betty, Where did you go? 

Coffee and Crosswords

By Tsia

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural except my love for the Pretty.

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Exiting the room with the aid of the walker, the man saw the woman sitting behind the breakfast bar in the kitchen directly in front of him past a small dining room table and four chairs. She was drinking what smelled like coffee while writing something in a book. She glanced up at him and smiled then went before turning back to her book. Looking around he saw an open, airy floor plan that let one think that the house was bigger than it was. Yet, it still had a cozy feel. Adding to the open feel was the fact that the place was sparsely furnished. 'I guess she doesn't like clutter,' he mused noting the lack of nic-nacks, trinkets, and pictures.

"What is a four letter word for procreation?" the woman startled the man with her question and derailing his train of thought. 'Fuck,' the word flashed into his head. He realized that could answer her question, but he refrained from saying it out loud, blushing. She smiled a pleasant, unembarrassed smile, waiting.

"Um," he starts clearing his throat, his voice gruff from non-use, "May I use your bathroom?" He feels embarrassed but the urge has not left him.

Smiling wider at the man, the woman gestured towards the door to his right, "Right through there, hon. Toothbrushes, razors, and cream are below the sink." Her voice was light, her actions causual. She turned back to her activities.

Slowly making his way to the indicated room, he was relieved to find it fairly small without being cramped. Once inside he leaned back against the wall, shaking from all the exertion. 'How long have I been here? I feel as though I have not moved in months.' His thoughts plagued his mind; questions taunted him but answers were not forthcoming. When he felt as though he could move without falling over, he pushed off the wall, moved the walker out of the way and used the toilet. Relieved he washed his hands and searched for the shaving supplies. Finding what he was looking for he slipped into the familiar routine. Finishing, he made his way back to the kitchen.

The woman was still sitting at the breakfast bar working on her crossword puzzle. She looked up at him after a moment and asked, "Coffee?" Without waiting for an answer, she got a cup and filled it with the offered liquid. The man sat down gingerly on the nearest bar stool eying the woman with suspicion as she set the cup down in front of him and added cream and sugar. 'How did she know? But then again, how do I know?' She then turned and moved through the living room to the left of the kitchen to the door left of the spiral staircase on the far wall. Turning back to him she said, "There is coffee cake if you would like," then exited, closing the door behind her. Carefully the man picked up the cup and smelled the beverage, "Mmmm," he unconsciously breathed, it was heavenly and began pushing all thoughts from his mind. He experimentally took a sip, 'just like I like it,' his suspicions and questions gone as he single mindedly enjoyed his coffee.

He had just drained the last of his drink when the door opened again. The man watched the woman walk back to the bar, pour herself another cup of coffee, add cream, then walk to the French doors behind him. "The sunset is beautiful," she said as she left leaving the door open. 'Wait, I need to talk to her, if she would stay put for a minute,' he thought. With that the man got up and followed her out. He found her sitting in a rocker next to the door and she was right, the sunset was beautiful. He stared at the spectacular display mesmerized by all the colors: reds, oranges, pinks, and yellows. 'Colors pretty. Sit, watch,' he mused his mind reduced to elemental thoughts, feeling worn out from all the walking. 'More like limping and shuffling,' he sighed to himself. By the time he eased himself down onto a chaise lounge opposite the woman's rocker, the sunset had faded to deep reds, purples, and blues. He saw that the large deck overlooked a deep valley and that the cabin was set onto the side of a mountain. 'It is nice here...' he drifted but was jerked out of his daze by the warm embrace of a throw being draped across his legs. Lost in his own thoughts he had not realized that the woman had moved. "It can get cool in the evenings," the woman spoke softly placing her hand on his shoulder. He felt comforted, forgetting what he wanted to ask, answering his sudden need for sleep.

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	3. Goodbye Stranger

Betty, Where did you go? 

Goodbye Stranger

By Tsia

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural except my love for the Pretty.

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The man woke with a start feeling as though he was being watched, and he was. Big brown eyes set into a huge head of the biggest dog he had ever seen were staring at him, practically eye to eye. He gasped at the size and proximity of the beast and tried to back away. "Jonah come," the man heard a gentle command issued from inside. He followed the huge dog with his eyes as it ran excitedly inside. When the man made it indoors, he saw the dog, Jonah, was chewing on a bone curled around the feet of the woman now seated on the couch facing the deck. On the coffee table in front of her was a plate of sandwiches and two glasses of what appeared to be iced tea. 'Food, hungry, thirsty,' he became single minded at the sight of the spread.

"There is turkey and ham with mustard and pickles, only sweet though, I ran out of dill. Tea, unsweetened, sugar if you would like," the woman informed him as she ate a sandwich. "Oh," mild surprise in her voice, mixed with amusement, "I guess those were not your jeans then." Her smile twinkled in her eyes; she was not making fun just stating the obvious. Setting her food down, she picked up a book and started reading.

'She acts as though I have always been here but says things to the contrary,' he could not get his thoughts in any order as he tried to remember, something important but what? He sat in the easy chair to the right of the couch, his back to the kitchen. Placing the walker to the side the man reached for a turkey sandwich and a glass of tea. 'Questions, yes,' he had questions, 'What to ask first?' he pondered a moment taking a bite of his sandwich. 'Yum, this is, um, good. I wonder if she baked the turkey herself,' he thought, drifting in a sea of culinary sensations. 'No, wait,' focusing, he gathered his thoughts into some semblance of order. "Excuse me, but who are you and where are we?" he asked, settling back waiting for the woman to reply.

She sat her book down beside her and absently stroked the huge black cat the man just now noticed sitting in her lap. "I am Thera and we are in my house," she answered then picked up her drink. Sipping, she waited for more questions. Her tone was neither guarded nor forthcoming.

"And where is that?" he asked exasperated, suddenly growing impatient. The man was in no mood to play twenty questions, especially if he had to ask all the questions. His half eaten sandwich was suddenly forgotten.

"The Ozarks," she answered, her face was open.

A tickling of memories played in the back of the man's mind. 'Traveling, searching, hunting... rain, night, yelling, bright lights...', he shook his head, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, trying to keep the headache that was threatening at bay. The obvious questions waited to be asked, "How did I get here? I don't remember you. Do you know me?" he felt as though he was forgetting something important. He raised his expectant eyes to hers, leaning forward in the easy chair.

She had an unreadable, yet pleasant expression. "I brought you here. You can't remember me because you do not know me and I don't know you, obviously," she smiled, indicating his jeans. Looking down at the cat, she pushed him off of her, saying, "Stop that Tor, go clean yourself somewhere else." She caught the man's eyes, which were confused. "You were in a car accident," she explained bluntly.

At her words, the man sat up stock still: horrible sounds of tearing metal, horrific sounds of bones snapping, the stench of blood and gas, the agony of being bounced around, upside-down.

Panic quickened his breathing, he started to sweat. He remembered suddenly the car was going too fast, an argument had fueled the speed. It was raining, a terrible thunderstorm raged as a fight escalated.

The man blinked rapidly. He could not focus his eyes, something bad happened. He was back on the dark stormy road.

Rain beating against the windshield, the wipers doing little to clear the glass. A flash in the headlights, streaking out from the surrounding forest, a deer. "Watch out!" he yelled. "Damn it!" he heard as the car swerved, skidding out of control, sliding down an incline, hitting trees, flipping, mangling the car.

The man could not hear anything, but his flashing memories. He dropped his glass of tea, the shattering glass adding to the recollections. Everything was too loud yet muffled, surreal.

An eternity of sound then silence descending for but a brief moment before the waves of pain hit. Every part of his body cried out to be noticed, but most of all his head felt like someone was using it as a bass drum. Violent snatches of agony played out from head to toe stopping just long enough to intensify for the next wave. He heard a drone through the booming of his head, 'the engine is still on.' Fearing that the car would explode, he reached over to switch off the ignition but was hindered by the seat where the steering column should be and a white hot pain in his side. Doubled over to stem the agony he felt the dampness, 'Wet, I'm all wet. Must have broken the window. Why is the rain warm? And hurts.' He screamed out at pain that flared when he brushed against something hard protruding out of his side.

His breath hitched as he reached for his left side. He fell back, slumping in the easy chair, he was loosing a battle with consciousness, both then and now.

Dizziness took control leaving him dazed and huddled on the headboard of the Impala leaning against the dash. It hurt to move his head, wetness kept getting in his eyes making them sting. He swiped at them smearing the moisture. 'Blood, I smell blood,' he licked his fingers to confirm, 'blood not rain.' He tucked his arms in close because suddenly he was cold, his butt and legs numb. 'I could just sleep, I am so tired,' his mind was trying to cope with the trama, but something kept tugging at his consciousness. He tried to ignore it, that drone he heard earlier, but it hammered at him until he recognized it for what it was, words. "Sam, do you hear me? Sammy?" Over and over the same words, desperate words, pain filled words, coming from far away...

The man took a ragged breath he did not know he needed and gasped, "Dean." Looking around wildly, he exclaimed, "Where is Dean? Where is my brother?" Sam, that was his name, saw that Thera was up and moving to the door she entered earlier.

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	4. O Brother Where Art Thou?

Betty, Where did you go? 

O Brother Where Art Thou

By Tsia

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"Ah, I thought that was his name," grasping the doorknob she turned to Sam, waving him over. She seemed unaffected by Sam's display. Struggling to his feet and with the aid of the walker he limped over to the door she entered. He saw a room similar to the one he woke up in. Thera was on the far side of the bed that occupied the space, bent over someone. "He was thrown from the car and was hurt worse," she stated as she straightened, she spoke as if she was talking about the weather. Sam could have throttled her right then and there had it not been for the relief he felt at finding out that his brother was still alive.

The walker sounded too loud in the quiet room as Sam approached the bed. 'He's alive,' joy sprung from him. That joy was short lived when he looked at Dean. His head was bandaged, his right arm was strapped to his chest, he was covered with cuts and bruises. He looked as if he'd played chicken with a train and lost.

"His legs were broken, three ribs, and his right arm. The bruising was extensive and he lost a lot of blood," Thera said without prompting, as if she was listing things she had to get at the grocery. "He is healing nicely, as are you." She smiled that amused smile.

Though there was no malice behind her words, Sam sensed something, again he could not place it. 'Good? Bad? Who the hell cares!?' Sam wanted to scream at her, 'What is with you?' he wanted to gut her, he could not get his emotions under control. Sam swayed and gripped the walker harder struggling to stay upright. Before he realized she had moved, Thera was pushing a chair under him. Gratefully he sat forgetting his wrath.

She moved the walker to Sam's side, placing one hand on his arm the other on his shoulder, "You sit with him for a while, it will do you both some good." Thera watched the struggle for just a moment making sure, then left the room.

Feeling suddenly tired, Sam blinked his eyes rapidly and tried to focus on Dean, "Yeah, tha' will be nicth," his words slurred. Reaching for Dean's left hand Sam held it in his own. "I sorry Dean, I didna mean to start a fight but you can be so damned pigheaded." A tear slipped down his face as he fought a losing battle to stay awake.

The next thing Sam registered was the sound of music, AC/DC to be exact, "Back in Black" was softly floating in the background. He was shocked when he realized where he was, back in the room he previously woke up in. He sat up in bed, again shocked to find he was naked. 'What the hell?' Swinging his legs over the side he did not see the walker anywhere, but instead a cane was leaning against the night stand. Grabbing it, he got dressed as quickly as he could in a grey t-shirt and the red long sleeved shirt and, he now knew, a pair of his brother's jeans.

As he exited his room he was hit with the pleasant aroma of bacon and biscuits. Thera was sitting at the bar again drinking coffee. He saw that she had already poured him a cup when he approached the bar. "What is a five letter word for aggravator?"

'Bitch, how it that for a five letter word?' Sam thought, he was in no mood for crosswords or games. "Back in Black" concluded and "Highway to Hell" started. Still at the whim of his emotions, he demanded, "What the hell is going on here?"

Blinking at him Thera answered, "Breakfast," she picked up a biscuit, split it, and placed two strips of bacon in between the halves. She was so matter of fact about it there seemed to be no doubt that is all it was. "It is morning," she cocked her head to the side as she ate her sandwich. A simple answer to a simple question. Sam did not like to be made fun of, though there seemed to be no teasing in her voice or actions. She just did not volunteer anything, she was almost like a computer, giving exact answers to exact questions, no elaborations. It was driving Sam insane.

"You know what I mean," his voice was almost threatening and a bit exasperated, "What did you do to me? I was in with Dean and then I wake up in there," he pointed to the room behind him, "naked. What are you doing to me? Us? Why are we here? Damn it, what do you want?" he demanded as he sat on a barstool, he could not hold himself up anymore.

Again she blinked, taking a sip of her coffee then answered, "You were tired, I put you to bed. You can't sleep in your day clothes, that is just gross." She finished her drink and poured another cup. Her voice was droning in Sam's ears. "It is morning, I made breakfast. I am helping." Thera's statements hid nothing and Sam did not get a bad 'vibe' from the woman. She simply answered the questions in an obvious way, but her words were not cold nor hard, just concise, infuriating to Sam. 'Everything seems right but so wrong, why?'

Thera got up, walked to Dean's room and opened the door. Stunned, Sam just stared after her, fuming, as she opened the curtains and adjusted the window. He knew should have gone in there to see how Dean is doing, but he was too mad to think clearly. He jumped when the tape ended with a loud click. Sam turned to see a portable stereo with a tape player sitting on the bar. 'Tapes, Dean's got a kindred spirit,' Sam absentmindedly picked up the cup in front of him and drank the coffee, distracted from his thoughts.

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	5. Breakfast

Betty, Where did you go? 

Breakfast

By Tsia

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"Ah, you're awake, good," Sam looked to Dean's room when he heard Thera speak. 'Dean,' remembering his concern, Sam got up and started to limp to the room. "I was wondering when you would," she said the same things to Dean she had said to Sam, in the exact same tone. "If you should want to get up, use this, it will help." Sam saw that she was pushing a wheelchair close to the bed, 'So that is how she got me back to my room.' He leaned on the door frame, tired from his trek, 'this cane is worse than that walker.' "I put your cleaned clothes in the dresser. I salvaged all that I could." Turning to the door, she looked at Sam, he saw the same amused twinkle in her eyes. Winking at him she looked back over her shoulder and said, "Oh, you're going to need another duffel," before leaving the two men alone.

"Sam, that you?" Dean asked weakly from the bed, he was trying to sit up.

"Yeah, Dean, it's me," Sam answered, he closed the door then limped toward the bed, smiling.

"Where are we and who's the chick?" the older brother was looking around the room, "What kind of motel is this?" Dean groaned as he fell back against the iron headboard. By the time Sam reached the bed he noticed that the bandage was gone from his brother's head as was the sling from his arm.

"We are in a cabin in the Ozarks. The woman says her name is Thera," Sam answered assessing Dean's injuries, most seemed to be in the final stages of healing: the cuts scabbed over and the bruises yellow and brown. 'Maybe I was out longer than overnight, Dean's injuries seemed a lot worse than they are now.'

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked, sitting down on the bed, stretching his sore shoulders.

"I feel like I was hit by a truck," Dean grumped as he looked himself over. "Dude, why am I naked?"

Sam chuckled, "This is Thera's cabin and she thinks everyone sleeps in the nude. I have woken up twice in the same state." At Dean's frown, Sam filled him in on the details that Thera told him, then got up to get his brother some clothes. In the dresser he found two pairs of jeans, one pair of navy coveralls with Dean's name stitched on it, three t-shirts, two long sleeved button shirts, one green and one denim. He also found two pairs of underwear and three pairs of socks. Checking out the jeans, he saw that they were the same size as the ones in his room. Sam choose the grey tee and green shirt, jeans, underwear and socks, then handed the clothes to his brother.

"Sam, I don't like this. What is she doing here? To us?" taking the offered clothes, Dean started to get dressed.

"I don't know. As far as I have found out she just seems to be here to help," Sam answered with a shrug, moving to the window, 'mountains, well more like large hills compared to the Rockies,' he mused. He heard his brother struggle, cursing but he remained where he was because he valued his life. He did turn when he heard the cry of frustration, "Damn it!" He saw his older brother half dressed with the jeans in his hand leaning against the headboard again, panting.

"Here," Sam offered trying to take the jeans.

"Dude, I am not a baby," Dean groused attempting to jerk them out of Sam's grip but was too weak.

Holding on tightly and trying not to topple over on top of his brother, Sam replied, "You sure are acting like one." At Dean's scowl, Sam softened, "Dean, you have two broken legs, let me help."

Glaring up at his younger brother for a moment Dean relented, he was too tired to do it alone. Between the two of them it took nearly five minutes and many curse words to get Dean into his jeans. Exhausted Dean asked, "If my legs are broken then why aren't they in casts? Or at lease some type of braces? They hurt like hell but they don't seem broken," he was leaning against the headboard in an effort to regain his strength. "I mean, you know how I feel about them and all, but why am I not in a hospital? How long have we been here?"

Sitting on the bed to catch is breath, Sam cocked his head to the right and agreed. He had felt for the breaks while he was helping Dean get dressed and had he felt none. 'How long have we been here?' he had not even thought to ask. "I don't know. I remember an argument, the storm, parts of the crash, massive amounts of pain, then waking up here." Getting up, he started to limp towards the door, "I'll go ask Thera."

Dean flexed his legs feeling aches that echoed harsh trauma. "Sam, hey, I'm coming with you." He attempted to get out of bed but his legs would not cooperate. "Shit," he said exasperated, watching Sam limp back. Distracted, he asked, "Sam, is that my shirt and are those my jeans?" a frown on his face, a smile playing on his lips.

Looking down at his attire, Sam smoothed a wrinkle from the shirt, "Yeah," remembering something Dean had told him once when he was wearing this same shirt. He then noted that the jeans had slipped low on his hips and replied, "I guess none of mine made it. You know, you should go on a diet," he good naturely teased, pulling on the waistband to emphasize the size difference.

"Shut up, bitch," Dean said frowning as he grabbed the wheelchair. He glared at Sam who also took hold of the chair. "Back off, I can do it," he scowled, shrugging off Sam's help, "Damn it, hold it still." When he was finally situated in the chair with reasonable comfort, he was covered in a sheen of sweat and was panting heavily. After waiting a couple of moments to compose himself, Dean propelled himself around. Sam limped ahead to open the door.

Thera was no where to be seen and she did not answer Sam's calls. They found the small dining room table was set for two and was filled with breakfast items. Rolling up to the table, Dean smiled and dug in. In frustration Sam sat next to his brother in the chair facing the picture window and poured coffee for both of them.

"So, where is Sara?" Dean asked between bites of egg and bacon. He took another biscuit and was slathering it with butter.

"It's Thera and I have no idea. You saw her leave as well as I did and I didn't see where she went because I closed the door," Sam corrected his older brother, looking around. Resigning to the fact that he was hungry and that Dean did not seem to be worried about being poisoned, Sam selected some food and started eating.

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	6. Regarding the Flux Capacitor

Betty, Where did you go?  
Regarding the Flux Capacitor 

By Tsia

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The brothers had just finished eating when the front door opened. They turned to watch the woman and the huge dog come in. Thera brought in a heavy pack and set it near the couch, Jonah ran to chase the cat, Tor, up the spiral staircase.

"I hope there was enough to eat," she smiled at them noting the empty plates and bowls, brushing errant hairs from her face. "Would y'all like some more coffee?" she asked as she walked into the kitchen not waiting for either to answer. They could hear Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear the Reaper" begin playing softly. She stared the coffee then began removing the items from the table. "I'm glad I made those sausages, you boys were hungry," her amused tone and comfortable movements confused Dean. 'she seems so at ease with us.' He gave Sam a look that asked, 'What the hell?' Sam's look answered, 'Yeah, I know.'

"Hi, Tara..." Dean started.

"Thera," Sam corrected.

"Thera, I'm Dean by the way since I have been unconscious and you've already met Sam. I was wondering, how long have we been here?" he was uncomfortable at the disadvantage. She seemed to know more than he did about the situation.

The woman finished what she was doing before turning to Dean, "Oh, so that's his name," the twinkle back in her eyes. Dean looked at Sam who blushed when he realized that he never introduced himself. She grabbed the coffee pot, a cup, and cream then came to sit with the men. Looking at Dean from across the table, her expression turned thoughtful. After pouring the hot beverage into her cup she passed the pot to Sam, having left them their cups, then put cream in her's. "Let me see, how long have you been here..." she let the sentence trail off, staring off into the space between the brothers. "Well, there was the night of the thunderstorm, that was a rough one," she winked at them as if they all shared a joke. The two men looked at each other again confused at her tone and actions. "A few days later Sam woke up and a few days after that you woke up, Dean," she looked at each brother in turn, her face hid nothing, amused, "I guess that would be today." She finished her coffee, poured herself another cup, added cream, and got up. She left them staring after her as she went out onto the deck. She was so matter of fact that Dean felt as though the conversation was over, even though he did not get his question answered. 'is she being evasive or...' the thought did not know where to go. Turning to Sam, Dean asked, "Did that just happen?"

Sam shrugged, "That's what I mean, she seems so at ease, almost blasé. I am not getting any bad vibe off of her. The way she talks, what she says, it is just so 'everyday', I don't know how to describe it. The way she acts, it's as if we have always been here. You know how people are when they have strangers in the house, she's different. It's like we could be here or not. I don't know." He was watching her through the window. She was standing at the railing looking into the valley, Jonah sitting beside her, Tor rubbing her legs. "Don't Fear the Reaper" finished and "Road to Nowhere" by Ozzy Osbourne started.

"Well Sam, we can't stay here. We have to get back on the road," Dean said as he backed up the wheelchair. "This is going to be a problem," frowning down at his legs. Then, as if a light bulb came on in his head, concerned he turned to Sam, "Dude, where's my car?"

It was Sam's turn to frown, he had not seen it but he had been not looking for it either. "I don't know, I'll look out front," he got up and limped to the front window. All he could see were trees and a road that disappeared into them, no car.

"Well?" demanded Dean, impatiently rolling up to his younger brother.

"It's not out there," Sam answered.

"I can see that. Where the hell is it?" he awkwardly spun around and started to go towards the deck.

Thera had taken that moment to come inside. "It is going to rain soon, by this afternoon at the latest," she mentioned walking towards the kitchen, gathering what was left on the table as she passed by. She shook the coffee pot then poured herself yet another cup of coffee.

Calming himself, Dean asked, "Thera, where is my car?"

"Oh, it is at Carlin's Body Shop in town," she offhandedly answered as she started doing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen. "It was kinda bent out of shape," she smiled and when she saw Dean pale she added, "Carlin's a good grease monkey, he'll fix her up right." Ozzy finished singing and "Carry on Wayward Son" by Kansas started.

"How bad and how long?" Dean asked, needing to know when they could get out of there, needing to know if his baby was alright.

"If I remember correctly Carlin said that the frame was bent, the engine block was cracked, and the flux capacitor needed to be replaced. With the parts that had to be ordered, I say about six months," she answered, drinking her coffee.

Dean was distraught 'six months', then confused 'the what needs to be replaced?', then mad, stating, "There is no damned flux capacitor."

She could not hold her straight face with the look Dean was giving her. Thera laughed out loud, pleasant without being obnoxious. It was a deep belly laugh that brought tears to her eyes and doubled her over, she had to grab the counter in an effort to keep standing. Sam had joined in with an outright disbelief at what the woman had tried to pull. Dean crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at the both of them, "That was not funny." He was tired, confused, and wanted straight answers, not a comedy show.

When Thera got herself under control she continued, "I'm sorry, I could not help myself. Ahem. No really, Carlin said that there was minimal damage, you were lucky, just some body work, replace both windshields, the driver's side window, and both outside mirrors. He estimated three weeks, he did have to order the mirrors. Everything else he had extra parts for, having a pretty good salvage yard himself." The music stopped with a click but Thera did not move to replace the tape. She finished with the kitchen then went to the pack she brought in earlier.

"Well, that sounds better. Three weeks...when was it brought in?" Dean calmed himself, schooling his features, he shot a foul look at his brother who was still giggling at the joke. Sam was now sitting on the couch petting Tor, the cat had taken a liking to him. Dean had wheeled over to his brother but stopped short when the big dog bounded up to him. He tenetively let the dog sniff his hand then he started to pet Jonah, who wagged his tail at the attention. His tension was starting to slip away, Dean smiled and relaxed a bit.

Looking up from the pack Thera thought for a moment, "Two weeks ago, the day after your accident. So it should be in the paint shop now and Carlin said 4 days minimum for that. By the end of the week you should have you car back." She stood and dragged the pack to the area between the men. "Here is the rest of your stuff that did not get damaged in the wreck." The brothers were shocked to see everything from the trunk of the car. The realization that they had been in the woman's care for two weeks was replaced by dismay at the fact that all of their weapons were sitting in her living room in front of them. Thera had gone upstairs leaving them to sort through their stuff. She acted as though she brought in the laundry for them to fold.

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	7. Her Nefarious Plans

Betty, Where did you go?

Her Nefarious Plans

By Tsia

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"Shit Dean, this is our gear," Sam was leaning forward pulling the pack towards him. Sifting through them he checked with the mental inventory he had against the items he found here. "Well, it looks as though all of it is here, everything from the trunk, even you box of fake IDs and your cassettes."

Somewhat relieved that all their weapons were intact Dean sat back, although something was clearly bothering him. Sam put words to his worry, "What must Thera think of us? I mean, look at this stuff and she just brought it in? Dean, what are we going to do?" Sam also leaned back looking worried and tired.

Dean shook his head, "I don't know Sam. Either she has some sort of advantage or she does not think that we're a threat. I don't get her. All I know is we need to get out of here before anyone else comes around or Thera decides to talk." He felt weary, he needed more answers, he needed to walk, he needed his car, he needed a nap. He looked to the staircase when he heard footsteps. Thera smiled her pleasant smile when she made eye contact. In the kitchen she was getting the coffee machine ready to brew yet another pot. 

Not wanting to wait Dean plowed on ahead, "Thera, what do you want?"

The woman stopped and pondered, finally answering, a twinkle in her eyes, "I want coffee and chocolate. I think I will bake a cake." She turned and started gathering the items she need for such an endeavor. She seemed so at ease you would not think there was an assortment of weapons, enough to arm a small army, sitting in her living room along with two strange men. Dean had wheeled around to face her, he was staring opened mouthed. 'This chick must be mental and how much coffee can one person drink?' He looked over at Sam, giving him a look at said just that. The look he got back confirmed it. 

Looking up from her recipe, Thera frowned, "I don't have any sour cream." She moved to the refrigerator and rummaged around. 

Sam tried to get clarification, "Thera, what are you going to do?" he pointed to the pack, "We can explain." He was in full puppy-dog-eyes mode. 

Walking back to the mixer with a container in her hand she answered Sam, "I am going to use plain yogurt instead, I don't think that will cause a problem. What is there to explain? It has a similar consistancy and properties." She smiled her amused smile then continued with her cake, glancing at their confused looks. "I didn't think ya'll wanted all that stuff left in the car while it was being worked on, those would be expensive to replace," she added with a wink. "You two obviously carry too much crap around in your car, that pack got heavy. And Dean, you need to update some of your IDs. Ah, the coffee is ready. Want some?" she was open and unconcerned.

"W-what?" Dean stuttered, he could not believe what he was hearing, how she was acting. 'Definitely a fruitcake, we need to get out of here.'

"Coffee? Do you want some coffee?" she reiterated her question. Getting no answer she poured them all some anyway, adding cream to her's and Sam's. Thera had just handed the men their cups when the mixer stopped. She finished making the cake and put it in the oven. Setting the timer she said, "I think that maybe the rain will hold off until tonight. Don't tromp around in the kitchen or the cake will fall." She picked up her cup and walked out to the deck.

"What the hell?" Dean exclaimed, frustrated and confused at the situation they were in. He wheeled around to head out to the deck. "I want some answers. No woman in her right mind would let two strange men into her home and give them weapons unless she has some kind of advantage."

"Dean, calm down," Sam grabbed his brother's arm to stay him, "Maybe she means she does not mind or care as long as we don't hurt her," Sam tried to put some perspective on things though he was just as frustrated and confused.

"Damn it, Sam, I don't like it. She has got to be hiding something, wants something. This does not feel right," he stated. "Stay here, I'm going to talk to her." Pushing against the wheels, Dean propelled himself until he was out on the deck with Thera. She was sitting in one of the two rockers staring off into the valley. She smiled at him when he approached and demanded, "What is going on here? And don't give me any crap about baking a cake and coffee. What do you want from us?" It would have been more impressive had he not been breathing so heavy and slumping in his chair. He was growing more tired as the morning wore on, having to move himself in the wheelchair and trying to wrench some answers from this damnedable woman. He rubbed his face with his hands to scrub away the weariness that threatened to drag him down and sat up straighter.

Her face was still pleasant, her tone still matter of fact but soft, "Dean, I am helping you and your brother heal after a traumatic car accident. I am baking a cake and drinking coffee. What I want from you and Sam is for ya'll to get better. That is all," she smiled with that twinkle in her eye. "You know, sometimes the obvious is all there is. I don't have any hidden agendas. You need to lighten up, you're too tense." With that she patted him on the leg, lingering a bit too long, then turned back to the scenery and her coffee.

Dean was suddenly very tired, drained even, but he was perplexed, "Why are you doing all of this? You saw all the stuff we have, the weapons, fake IDs, aren't you curious? Afraid? We could be felons or serial killers. And if we were in such a 'traumatic car accident' then why are we not in a hospital? Sam told me I had two broken legs, a broken arm, and three cracked ribs. Shouldn't a doctor have checked us out?" The last question he barely got out around the yawn he could not suppress.

She paused, with thoughtful eyes she turned to him and said, "Dean, you were that injured and more, you would not have made the trip to the hospital. Sam was in bad shape as well; he had a massive concussion, two very deep cuts and had lost a lot of blood. He would have made it but he would have suffered more. I took a chance and it paid off." She reached over and put her hand on his, smiling. "I know you are a good man, as is your brother, who does great things. You have your dark spots but don't we all." Her eyes twinkled, "I am not out to get you and I have no sinister plans to make you the father of my evil spawn. Now, you get some rest." Thera watched as he closed his eyes, struggled a moment, then let his head drop, sleeping. She patted his hand once more then leaned back to finish her coffee.

Sam had just made it to the doorway when he saw his brother drift off. "What happened? Is Dean okay?" concerned, he too was weary with all the walking he had done. 

Thera got up to help Sam onto the chaise lounge, "Dean is fine but very tired. He has done so much this morning, it wears on a person don't ya know." She smiled and winked. Though he fought it also, Sam's eyes started to close, she patted him on the arm placing her other hand on his shoulder. "He just wants to keep you safe, to protect you; you are his responsibility. It is so stressful pretending you don't need anybody. He tries so hard to keep up that brave face but he is so lonely. Here, you lie back and rest, you can sit with him until he wakes. And it will keep you boys out of the kitchen for a while." By the time he was settled, he was asleep. "That's better, sleep." Smiling, the woman went to check on her cake.

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	8. Always Time for Cake

Betty, Where did you go?

Always Time for Cake

By Tsia

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It was dark when Sam woke up again, back in his room naked in bed. With a groan he sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood. He was surprised that he did not need the cane, which was just as well because it was nowhere to be found. Getting dressed he wondered if Dean was up yet. When he entered the kitchen Thera was not there. Looking around he did not see her anywhere not even out on the deck. 'What time is it anyway?' Sam wondered debating waking his older brother when he heard "Damn it" through the door. He knocked softly then opened the door, "Dean?"

"Damn it," Dean repeated as he finished dressing. "Hey Sam," he greeted his younger brother wrestling with the walker. "What time is it? I can't find my watch."

"I don't know, I don't have my watch either and I haven't seen a clock. It's dark so late night or early morning." Sam pondered. "Dude, you're out of that chair."

"Yeah, but this is going to be a bitch," Dean indicated the walker trying not to fall over. "Where's your cane?"

Sam smiled, he still felt stiff and achey but nothing like before, "I don't need it but I am not going to be running any marathons any time soon." He made it to the kitchen first so he looked for a clock on one of the appliances. Finding none he turned back to see the progress Dean had made. "I see you won't either." His older brother was sitting in one of the easy chairs clearly wiped out.

"Shut up. Hey, see what Thera has to drink and bring me something. This is a harder than it looks," Dean was not happy he was not 100 yet.

"Tell me about it," Sam agreed rummaging through the refrigerator. He found water, orange juice, and milk. Choosing the juice he poured two glasses. "That's what I had to deal with my first day up," Sam said handing his brother the orange juice then sat down on the couch.

Dean frowned but accepted the drink. He knew he was thirsty, just how much surprised him when he drained the glass. "Dude, how long did we sleep?"

Both men jumped when a voice answered from above, "Not long enough." Thera was making her way down the spiral staircase in a full-length pink bathrobe and matching fuzzy slippers. She was rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she went to the kitchen. "By the by, it's three in the morning, the wiching hour," she said with a wink then proceeded to make, what else, coffee.

The men watched their hostess move around the kitchen gathering things for a snack. Sam stood and apologised, "Thera, I'm sorry we woke you, we didn't know what time it was. We don't want to keep you up."

Thera smiled as if it were the afternoon, waving the appology off. "Nonsence, any excuse to have a snack. Here, have some cake," she sat the dessert on the coffe table. "Please if you will, Sam," handing Sam the plates and silverware, "I'll bring you both some coffee." Sam sat down on the couch and proceeded with cutting the cake.

"Thera, I don't think... " Dean started but trailed off at the look Sam was giving him. "Thanks that would be nice." He looked pointedly at his younger brother as he accepted the slice of chocolate cake from him. He noticed that over half of the dessert was gone.

"Ah, coffee, nothing is better to clear the head and focus thoughts," Thera mused setting cups in front of the brothers. She sat oppisite Dean sipping her beverage. Sam handed her some cake. "This turned out better than I expected, I will have to remember to get some more yogurt."

Sam asked, "So how long did we sleep?" eating his piece of dessert. "Mmm, this is delicious."

"Thank you. Well, let's just say that, Dean, your car will be ready tomorrow. Oh, I mean, later today." Her eyes twinkled.

"That was fast," Dean was happy that they could get out of there soon. He thought a moment more, frowning he said, "Do you mean to tell us that we slept for four days?" He sat is now empty plate down on the coffee table in front of him.

"Yes, you boys were tired," Thera picked up their dirtied dishes and what was left of the cake and brougnt them into the kitchen. She started to wash the plates when Sam spoke.

"How can that be? I mean..." his questions trailed off, he was at a loss. Sam turned to look at Dean.

Thera finshed the dishes and returned to the easy chair. Pouring herself yet another cup of coffee she sipped and waited, her expression open.

Dean tried, "Thera, what is going on here? How is it that we are sleeping so long and that we are healing so fast? If I had everything that was wrong with me that you say I did, then I should be in recovery for another couple of months. There is no way I could have healed in just three weeks." He was confused, angry, and a bit scared, though he would never admit that to Sam. He did not like being at a disadvantage; he did not like owing people anything. He had a feeling that this whole situation was not natural. Dean demanded, "What do you want? What are you doing to us? What are you?"

Thera drained her cup of coffee then stood. "Dean, you sound like a broken record. I am helping you and your brother heal. I am Thera, nothing more, nothing less. That is all. Not everyone is out to get you." She smiled and touched Sam on the side of his face. He was shocked by the action but did not pull away from the warm, gentle touch. Cradling Sam's face in her hand she looked into his eyes, brushing his bangs aside with her fingers. Softly for only Sam, "Without you and your father, your brother will fall apart. Dean has no one else." He wanted to protest, 'Everyone has friends,' but he could not. There was a strange quality to her voice that he had not heard before, emotional, fragile. The alarm that had flared, faded, he understood. "Dean loves you and needs you. Don't be afraid to let him in," she finished. Calmed by the words and the touch, Sam's eyes drooped, his head tilted back. He was asleep.

"What the hell! What did you do? Sam!" Dean was mad, he had not heard what she had said to Sam but this woman had obviously hurt his little brother. 'Witch, she has got to be a witch. She hexed him, put some sort of spell on him.' He struggled to stand to fight off the woman when she turned to him.

"Dean, your brother is sleeping because he is tired. He tries so hard everyday to live up to your expectations. To live up to his expectations." Thera placed her hand on Dean's shoulder, guiding him back down into the easy chair with little effort. "He does not want to be found weak in your eyes." She placed her other hand on the side of his face just like she had done with Sam. Dean tried to pull away, "Don't," but could not resist, he was so overwhelmingly tired. He could not keep his eyes open or his mind focused. "Sam is okay, Dean. Don't worry, you are not alone. He loves you and needs you." A strange kind of peace spread through him as he drifted off to sleep. Carefully easing Dean's head to the back of the chair, Thera blinked back the tears in her eyes. "Sleep," she whispered.

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	9. Where did you go?

Betty, Where did you go?

Where did you go?

By Tsia

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It was light outside when Sam woke again in the same state he always found himself. He got up and dressed then went to wake up Dean. He found his brother at the big picture window leaning on a cane watching the falling rain. "Hey, how long you been up?"

"Hey," Dean replied, he had a strange look in his eyes, "oh, a few minutes. Thera's not here, I called but..." his voice trailed off. He was preoccupied, idly fingering the window sill. "Feels different today."

"Huh?" Sam did not know how to respond but then he knew what his brother meant. The cabin did not have the same feel. He looked around and found everything as it was the days before, it just felt different. Cold. Empty.

"I walked around and I have to say this damn cane is a bigger bitch than that walker," Dean had sat down on a dining room chair, shugging at his younger brother's unasked questions. "Everything's the same but something's missing. I can't put my finger on it." 

Sam went to the kitchen and was surprised to find no coffee made. 'Thera always has coffee, she's addicted or something.' He went to the front window, "Dean, your car's out front."

Dean limped over to where Sam was, "I'll be damned, just like Thera said." He should have felt more relieved but he did not. He had a strange emptiness that he could not place. "We should pack our stuff."

The men gathered the clothes from both rooms putting them in the new duffles they found by the pack in the living room. They also found new shoes in their sizes. Dean found his car keys on top of his dresser. Sam then took both duffles and the pack with their gear and loaded the car. Back in the cabin he shook off the rain and headed towards the kitchen. "Coffee?" he asked when he found Dean there.

"No," Dean replied closing the refrigerator.

"Well, I would like some," ignoring the strange expression on his brother's face.

"Dude, that's not what I meant. I mean there's no coffee. There is nothing here," Dean opened the refrigerator for Sam to see. "I've looked in the cabinets as well. It is as if there was never anything here. That's what's wrong."

Sam was shocked, he could not believe that Thera would just leave. "Thera..." he left the question unasked.

"I don't know. Check up stairs." Dean continued to roam around the cabin looking for signs of life, Jonah and Tor.

Upstairs Sam was again shocked to find nothing. It was an unfurnished loft that opened up to a deck overlooking the forest to the front of the house. Hurrying back down he told his brother what he found or rather did not find. "What is going on here? Who or what is Thera?" 

Dean was not surprised after all that he found already. "I can't find any trace of the dog or the cat either. Grab the EMF."

Sam got the item and then did a sweep of the cabin. Nothing. "What the hell is going on here? We should have known something. I did not even sense anything. I did not even dream. Wait didn't you say something?" he looked expectantly at his older brother.

Dean pondered a bit, "I remember talking when we had cake and I thought she had done something to you. She said you were just tired, then I fell asleep." He had a vague memory of expectations and being needed. 'Sam's okay. You are not alone,' echoed in his head.

"Yeah, you asked her what she wanted from us but I fell asleep, too." Sam remembered being needed and loved. 'It is stressful pretending you don't need anybody, he is so lonely,' whispered in his ear.

Both men were so lost in their own thoughts that they both jumped when the front door opened. An older man about 50 years old walked in smiling shaking off the rain from his umbrella. "Good morning, interested in buying?" He propped his umbrella next to the door then went to the kitchen, he shook the brothers' hands in turn. "I'm George Hammond, the realtor of this property. Not the best day to be house shopping but it lets you know if there are any leaks." He laughed good naturedly.

The brothers looked at one another breifly deciding, Sam replied, "I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean. You say this property is for sale? By whom?"

George set his breifcase on the kitchen counter, opened it up, and got out a sheaf of papers. "The estate of Betty and Fraiser Siler. Their family is selling the place."

Sam continued, "Why is that?"

George thought for a moment, "Well they said that none of the remaining family wants the place so they are getting rid of it so to speak. All the children have moved away to other states."

"So who is living here now?" Sam was hoping to get some answers but all he was getting was more questions.

"Oh, no one lives here now. No one for the last ten years since Betty passed away." George was still a salesman, "As you can see the kitchen has been updated as has the bathroom. Both decks have been replaced and the windows and doors have been resealed."

Dean broke in, "You won't happen to know a Thera would you?"

"Thera?" George concidered, "No, I don't. Why do you ask?" he frowned.

"Well we happened to meet a woman by that name earlier and was wondering if she lived around here." Dean could not think of anything else to say. 

George smiled again, not as big as when he came in, sensing he was not going to make a sale.

Seeing his change in demenor, Sam piped in, "Where can we find out more about this place and property?"

Brightening George answered, "Well all the information is in this packet," he handed Sam a plastic enveloped stack of papers. "This will tell you the history, all the occupants, and the work that has been done on the house itself."

Sam looked to Dean, signaling that they should leave, "Thank you so much, we have a couple other places to look at before we decide."

"Not a problem, here is my card," George handed Sam and Dean a card each with his name, business, and phone number as he ushered them out the door. "Have a nice day," he said getting in his car.

The brothers got into the Impala. Dean started up his baby, smiling as the engine roared to life. Sam sat in the passenger seat taking the papers out of the envelope. Shifting through them he found what he was looking for. Though he should not have been, he was suprised at what he read. "Dean, listen to this. The owners were Fraiser Carlin Siler and Beatrice Thera Siler. Both deceased and are survived by their two childeren, Johnathan Torrance and Daniel Jonah Siler, both married." He looked at his brother.

Dean frowned as he tried to make sense of what he heard. 'What the hell? Was that her ghost?' "Are you telling me that Thera was this Betty woman?"

"It says so right here Dean. There's a picture of her," Sam showed his brother. Without a doubt it was Thera. Sam sat back with a sigh.

Dean was trying to come up with some sort of explaination. "Let's get breakfast," was all he said pulling into the parking lot of a diner. The cabin had not been that far from the town, Creek Moutain, population 5,746. Inside they ordered and Sam continued to read.

The waitress, a matronly woman in her early 60s, put their food in front of them and spoke, "Ah, you boys interested in the old Siler place?"

Sam, eager for information, prompted, "Yes ma'am, what do you know about the Silers?"

The waitress, Laura, poured them coffee and answered, "They were nice people. Fraiser owned a garage here in town. And Betty was so sweet, she could make anyone feel at home. Never met a stranger." She smiled then chuckled, "Oh and did she like her coffee. I don't think I ever saw her without a cup in her hand."

Sam and Dean looked at each other, knowing.

Laura continued, "I don't know how you boys feel about this stuff but Betty was know around these parts as a 'healer,' after a near death experience from a car crash that killed her husband," her eyes went unfocused, thoughtful. Blinking she continued, "That was twenty years ago, last month in fact. So sad that. It was during a thunderstorm, Fraiser hit a deer and lost control. It was just awlful. But after that she could just touch someone and they would be healed, no matter what was wrong. She was a kind woman who never would turn anyone away. Like I said, never met a stranger. Excuse me," she left to wait on new customers.

"Dean, you hear that?" Sam was excited about the information.

"Sam, yes I heard. I just don't believe it," Dean was sceptical.

Sam stared opened mouthed at his older brother, "All that we do, what we hunt, and you do not believe this? Come on dude, how can this be so hard to swallow?" Remembering his food he started to eat.

Dean looked up from his breakfast, "Sam, I need some more information. One person's opinion does not make it true." 

Laura came back to refill their cups. Sam asked, "The garage that Fraiser owned, is it still in operation?"

The waitress smiled, "Oh my, no. It closed shortly after Fraiser died, neither of the children took up that trade. Johnathan and his wife have moved to Texas and Daniel, his wife and three children live in Iowa." She looked at Dean then took a sharp intake of breath.

Sam concerned, "Ma'am, are you all right?"

Laura answered, "Oh, I am sorry, that cane of yours, it looks just like the one that Betty used. The one person that she could not heal, herself. After the accident she had a limp and had to use a cane. She had her husband's name engraved on the shaft. Wanted him close, she always said, helping her get around." She smiled and left to take care of more customers.

Dean was frowning, when he saw that Laura was busy he took the cane and looked at it. Turning it over in his hands he found it. Engraved near the handle, 'Fraiser Carlin Siler, my love, my life' worn but still visible. "I'll be damned." He showed his brother.

Sam raised his eyebrows, "I told you, it was her." They finished their meal and as they were paying, Sam asked one last question of Laura, "What did Betty die of?"

Laura thought for a moment, "Heart failure, she was 95 years old."

The brothers thanked her and left. Back in the car Sam pondered, "Well, that's a first, a nice ghost."

"Sam, that's not what it is," Dean wan pondering what they had learned as well. "We have to think of how to deal with this."

"What do you mean Dean? We don't, we move on," Sam was not liking what his brother was implying.

"We have to check it out, Sam. You know the research thing," he was not understanding his brother's lack of interest.

"Dude, what are we to do when we confirm this? Go salt and burn her bones?" Sam did not understand his bothers insistance. "what is your problem here?"

"Sam, I just..." Dean trailed off staring out the window. 'I don't like owing anybody.'

"Library," dumbfounded, Sam relented.

They spent two hours researching all the newspapers in the timeframes that the waitress had given them. Then after talking with several town's folk they confirmed that the story was true. By the afternoon the rain had turned into a drizzle and both Winchesters were satisfied that they had all the information they needed.

At the gravesite, Dean silently read the tombstone. 'Beatrice Thera Siler, loving wife and mother. You will always be remembered.' Lost in his own thoughts he jumped when Sam abruptly laughed.

"What the -?" Dean started to ask when he saw what his brother was pointing at. A coffee cup was sitting on top of the tombstone. "She did like her coffee," Dean said with a smile, which faded when he noticed there was steam coming out of the mug. Sam noticed at the same time. The brothers looked around but could not see anyone around nor any indications that anyone had been around. With all the rain that had fallen that morning there would be clear footprints in the mud, though all they could find were their own.

Dean slipped out the EMF from his coat pocket and did a sweep. Nothing registered, all was clear.

"Anything?" Sam questioned.

Dean shook his head putting the device back in his pocket, "No, nothing."

Sam followed his brother's line of sight to read the tombstone again. Thinking back on all that had happened it seemed like a dream, except for the new scar he had on his side. Absently brushing his bangs from his eyes, Sam whispered, "Thanks," then turned to go back to the car.

Dean barely heard what his brother had said, however he understood there was nothing to do. There was no ghost terrorizing the town nor spirit that needed help crossing over, so to speak. 

"Um... thanks," Dean said uncomfortably, feeling stupid. He shifted from foot to foot then realized what he held in his hands. Carefully, Dean leaned the cane against the tombstone by the coffee cup. "This is your's."

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End file.
